Arctic: The 334th Annual Hunger Games SYOT
by GaelicPassion
Summary: After 334 years of the Hunger Games, this year certainly is going to be a special one. The torturous arena will be set in the depths of Antarctica, where the tributes will have to battle conditions more than bitter, facing temperatures up to -40 Degrees Celsius. only one tribute can come out alive. Will it be yours? SYOT open!
1. Prologue I

" _Kat-nisssssss!"_

There's no point in trying to sleep. The hissing sound is now definitely unmistakeable, it's no voice coming from my head. It sounds much closer than it sounded before, like it's heading for our location. This sends a shiver down my spine. We need to move. I take a look at the rest of my troop, all sleeping silently, as if there's no care in the world. Jackson lies opposite me, a fully armed gun grasped firmly in her hand. I feel Peeta's head resting on my shoulder, and examine him. I don't know If I'm just imagining it, but his aqua blue eyes definitely seem to have more warmth in the than they did when I first time I saw him after his hijacking, the night he nearly killed me, and broke my neck. And of course, he's managing to be in the same room as me without attempting to kill me. Maybe Plutarch is right, and he is improving.

" _Katnisssssssssssssss!"_

The words just came out of Peeta's mouth that time as well, for sure. The sound is closer yet, maybe about a mile away from where in the pipe that we're positioned. I hear pounding footsteps coming from that direction, too. Not human footsteps, more like a cheetah, or a mutt. _Mutts_ , that's what Snow's done, he's set a pack of mutts on us, programmed to kill me. Jackson opens her eyes abruptly. "What the hell was that sound?" she says. "Everybody wake, we've gotta get out of this place right now, No questions!" I quickly grab my bow and arrows,

"What is going on?" Asks Gale sleepily, his face full of a mixture of confusion and fear.

"I said no questions. Quickly, or die, we have no time to lose!" The rest of the troop take a few seconds to fully wake up, murmuring tiredly, and yawning. After about ten seconds, they're all on their feet, ready to run for their lives. Everybody except from Peeta.

Everybody else starts running, but I walk slowly towards Peeta, ignoring Gale's agonised shouts for me to run, and leave Peeta. Its love, it must be, that's what must be keeping me behind, trying desperately to pull up a spazming, kicking, and screaming Peeta. I ignore the sound of the footsteps running closer and closer towards us. "I'm a mutt! I'm a mutt!" Peeta screams. "Get off me, I'm a mutt!"

"Peeta, stop it! It's me, Katniss, I'm trying to help you!" I desperately try, but it's no use. Instead he pushes me to the ground and runs with all his might in the wrong direction, right for the mutts.

"PEETA NO!" Without thinking straight, I head straight after him. I see him standing in the middle of the blackened tunnel with his arms outstretched as wide has he can get, attempting to block the path of some green, monster like creatures. I've never seen one of them before, they have form a little bit like a human, but they are completely naked, and have no eyes, instead monstrously sharp teeth, no doubt adapted to rip throats out, They are about twice the size of a tall human, someone like Gale, and have bulging green skin. They shriek even louder than Peeta or I do as they pin him to the ground.

I frantically pull out an arrow and fire it, and it hits one of them in their right calf, but it doesn't seem to make an impact. I wonder if these things are invincible. Instead of trying to fight, I sink down onto the damp floor of the tunnel, and cover my ears to stop me from hearing Peeta's loud and guttural screams, with hot thick tears streaming rapidly down my face. Realising that I have no hope, I pull out an arrow, and aim it at me brain. I know it's not like me to go down without a fight, but it would be quicker this way, and I wouldn't have to suffer. Maybe Peeta and I will meet again in the afterlife. I just hope that Prim and my mother understand, that I died trying to save Peeta. My eyes cloud with more tears, will they ever forgive me for not just running away like the rest of the troop. I hope that they can learn to move on, and that the rest of the troop get out of here safely, and continue to fulfil the mission that we came here for, or all of this will be for nothing, all the death will be meaningless. I hope the rebels manage to wipe that sadistic smirk off Snow's face.

Just when I know that the baker's boy is dead, and probably in pieces, I hear the deadly monsters coming for me now. I pull the string of the arrow back.

Before they get to me, I shoot.

 **Hey, thanks for reading, and welcome to my SYOT: Arctic, the 334th Annual Hunger Games! I know it was short, but that prologue was just a quick insight to how the districts lost the rebellion. A more detailed analysis of how the districts lost the rebellion will be described in a later prologue. Oh, and just to let you guys know, this story will be finishing. Also, if you can create a cover for this story, that would be great, just PM me for more details, and you can also have 20 sponsor points too! ;) Btw the form will also be on my profile. Happy submitting!**

 **Gaelic.**

Basics:

Name:

Nickname (Optional):

Age:

Gender:

District:

About your tribute:

Appearance (5+ Sentences):

Personality (6+ sentences):

History/Backstory:

Family/Friends:

Hobbies/Interests:

Token (Optional, this isn't the most important of important.):

Reaping outfit :

Reaped or volunteered:

Reaction/Reasoning:

Opinion on the Games:

Anything else:

Pre-Games:

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Parade outfit:

Training Strategy:

Alliances and what type of tribute would they like to ally with?

Interview Angle:

What do they broadcast to the Gamemakers in Private sessions?:

Suggested score (Be realistic. No elevens for a blind twelve year old with one leg and no training skills.)

Anything else?:

Games:

Bloodbath Strategy: (Remember, some people have to die, unfortunately.)

General Arena Strategy:

Predicted Placement (Don't be scared to say 1st):

Preferred death:

Anything else?:

Other:

Quote (Optional but recommended)

Faceclaim: (Same as above)

Anything else?:


	2. Prologue II

**Caspian Sentra**

 **62**

 **Offficial Head Gamemaker (About to retire)**

 _Knock, knock, knock._

The knocking on the other side of my office door wakes me up immediately, sending shockwaves through my body. I yawn, stretch, and brush aside the paperwork that I've been using as a pillow. Being a Head Gamemaker isn't all that its glammed up to be, especially at this time of year, two months before the Reaping's. Finalising the arena, and making sure that everything is in tip-top shape is essential. For the past week, I've been having to work eighteen hours a day, with about a fifteen minute break during that period of time, and I've been sleeping in the office for the past week also. That means a week without seeing my wife, or my home. She must be worried sick by now. I'd always say work before family or pleasure, but at the end of the day, If I put a foot wrong, President Articulus Snow's poison could just slip into my wine, he's hinted that many-a-time. Not to mention the Capitol have waited all year for these Games, so if it was another boring year, they would be up in arms. I'm only human, and surely no human could cope with this amount of pressure, no matter how much money they were being paid for it. That's why I have decided I want to retire, and today I have to interview the final candidate for the job. There were originally two candidates, but the second fell tragically ill, so could not proceed with his campaign to be gamemaker. I have to interview this candidate, and decide if they're worthy enough for the job. If they are, they get it, but if I don't think they are, some of the previous candidates who wanted the job will have to be brought back

On the other side of the door will be the candidate. I've no clue who it is, I'll have to wait and see.

Suddenly, the door sharply bursts open. In marches a stern, no-nonsense looking woman, who, by Capitol standards, hasn't got much makeup on. She has huge diamond earrings, long black hair that has white streaks in, a hooked nose, and is wearing a short black dress. I'm blown away, I can't help but observe, can i? She would be about 5 ft 5 in height, but her eight inch heels make her a lot taller. She must be the second candidate. Before I can greet her, she snaps her mouth open. "First of all, let's get something straight. I'm nothing like that vulgar bafoon who wanted this job, but fell oh so _tragically_ ill. I've worked hard all my life for this job, so I think it's only fair to say that I deserve it. I was born into one of the poorest families in the ENTIRE Capitol, you see. I had 3 older brothers who are now drug abusing rats. But I decided I needed to _work_ my way to the top, you see, and I'm here for business, not for chitchat. My name is Fiona Irajel." She sternly shakes my hand, and even forces a small, cracked lipped smile. I can't help but beam back, and begin to jot down notes immediately. Her sheer confidence is overwhelming.

"So Fiona, what history have you had in this industry then?" I ask her, while pulling out a _better_ chair for her."

"That your opening question is it?" She sneers. "Okay, well I studied gamemaking since the age of 12. Not meaning to gloat, but I passed with flying colours. Then at age 21, I worked in sponsor control, very shitty job that was. I then worked as mutt designer for ten years, and was then _finally_ promoted to Deputy head mutt designer. I was still hungry for more though, I knew I could do something bigger and better. When I found out that you were retiring, my boss suggested that I go for it, and apply for the job. He too thought that I deserve it."

"What new things could you bring to the games as a Head gamemaker, then?" I am enjoying this much more than I thought I would.

"I intend to push the tributes to their absolute limits. I will make sure that the Victors actually _deserve_ to be Victors, and don't just win out of luck. I guarantee you that I can get the audience off their seats in awe. I've designed mutts for years on end, and have made each and every mutt original. I'm confident that I'm the right choice for you." I still haven't seen a flicker of fear or nervousness in her. She just sits stone cold in her chair, with her arms firmly folded.

"Okay, you're doing well so far", She glares at me, basically informing me that I shouldn't have said that, without actually speaking. "The theme for this year's arena is cold, how could you expand that, and create one of the best arenas yet?"

"Cold? Right, that's brilliant. It coincides with my original arena idea, anyway. Hundreds of years ago, before the devastating earthquakes and floods that created Panem, there were two continents, one at the very north of the world, called the Arctic, and one at the very south of the world, called Antarctica. They had extremely harsh climates, temperatures getting well below Minus Forty Degrees Celsius. They were the only two continents, beside America, that weren't completely destroyed, they are still very much around now. My arena would be set in a dense mountain range in the arctic. Temperatures would get down to about minus forty degrees at night. In this mountain range, there are caves, which would provide concealment, and some forest. Obviously, it would be heavily snowing non-stop. But it would be too easy, wouldn't it? The snow would provide an infinite water source. So the snow will be poisonous. Not to the face, but if swallowed. There will be a few lakes, ponds, and streams, which will be the only water source in the arena. But of course, they will all be frozen over. The tributes will have to find their own way of defrosting the water. As for food, there will be basics provided in the cornucopia, but that will only last them about two days maximum. After that, they will either have to rely on sponsors, kill the aggressive polar bear mutts, or other animals, and cook them with matches provided in the cornucopia. I would also make sure that no tribute would be able to escape the bloodbath if they wanted to last more than a couple of hours. They would come out of their tubes wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of thin cargo pants. All the jumpers, thick fur coats, hats, scarves, and heated gloves would be stocked up in the cornucopia, along with all the weapons. The warmer and more helpful the item is, the deeper into the cornucopia it is. Also, as the arena is a mountain range, there will be plenty of extremely powerful avalanches, each mountain would have one every three hours. Thank you. Could I have some water, please?" She asks me. I select a fine crystal glass from my cupboard, and pour her some water out of the jug and pass the glass to her carefully. I'm amazed, this time positively. She really does want this. I can only think of on negative, she might not actually follow through with her gargantuan plans.

I clear my throat. "So you've talked about a lot, but you haven't mentioned as much about mutts. What mutts could you add to make it an even more exciting games?"

"Like I've already said, there will be polar bears. They will be bigger than normal polar bears, and also faster, and more aggressive. They'd have razor sharp fangs adapted to rip your throat off with one bite. But if a tribute manages to kill one, it could feed one person for about a week, and they'd be in a brilliant position for sponsors. There will also be snow leopards. There will be more leopards than polar bears in the arena. They're more subtle than the polar bears, but not quite as strong. They could easily sneak up on and pounce on a tribute without them noticing. The third most antagonizing mutt in the arena would be a snowman mutt. Hilarious, that might sound, but they have exceptional aim, and are always armed with unlimited iceballs. If they pelt three iceballs at the right part of your head, you would be toast, and they have excellent ability to camouflage. If they get close enough to you, they could beat you to death quite easily. But remember, you couldn't stab a snowman to death, could you?"

"Thank you, time's up now." I say warmly. She practically leaps up from her chair, and rapidly walks off, the clonking sound of her high heels getting gradually quieter and quieter. I get up, and head to the telephone. I need to tell the president my verdict on her.

 **So that was the second prologue! I hoped you liked it. Most likely, Fiona will get in, but i'll put up a poll on my profile asking if you like her or not. Did you like the chapter?**

 **Gaelic ;)**


	3. Prologue III

**Parker Knowles, 21**

 **District thirteen citizen and rebel.**

How, might you ask, am I still here? How did the Capitol fail to destroy District thirteen fail to destroy District thirteen completely for the second time, all those years ago? That's a perfectly valid question. After Katniss, Peeta, and the rest of squad 451 were torn apart by those hideous green mutts, the rebels knew that they had lost most hope. More peacekeepers joined the Capitol's vast armies, as they were told that the more people they had on their side, the easier it would be to sieze power again. The Capitol forces took over their city, discovered all the rebels that were based there, and executed them. President Coin and Paylor were both killed. The uprisings and death in the districts grew worse. Finally, the Capitol's nuclear weapons were powerful enough to be sent to district thirteen in attempt to obliterate us. By then, district thirteen had pretty much lost all hope of winning the rebellion, they just hoped that the Capitol might leave them be. But, the Capitol couldn't be so merciful, could they? But about twenty of the district thirteen inhabitants, including Plutarch Heavensbee, realised that the Capitol would attack sooner or later, so tried to get people out of their underground homes, and far away, to a safe place. But nobody wanted to leave. After spending years living underground, they were so used to it. And they thought they had enough defences to keep them safe, but they didn't. Out of 14,000 people, Plutarch and his people managed to get _ten_ people to safety. The Capitol thought the bombs had killed everybody, and so did the districts. Two days after the bombs, the thirty survivors came back to the ruins, and nearly everything was destroyed. Or so I was told in my history lessons. It took about 200 years for District thirteen to fully get back on it's feet. Even now, we only have a population of about 800 people. We would have no chance in a war against the Capitol at the moment, and we probably wouldn't anytime soon. We're barely even getting enough to eat every day.

Here, everybody has to provide a helping hand. My job is harvesting, one of the most dull jobs around. We have to walk round all the district, in search of edible plants, and sometimes have to kill to animals to provide meat. We never have any interesting meals here, though. But right now I'm in a meeting room, accompanied by some of the district's senior officials, who are. analysing everything that's going on in Panem. I'm only invited because they discovered I have a healthy hand with technology and computers, which is true. They are dreadfully limited round here, but I've always found them fascinating. We've only had technology here for about thirty years.

"Parker, come here." Says our 'President', President Sharp. "I think we've found something interesting."

 **Hi again! I know that was short, and probably pointless, but I wanted to get across how the Districts lost the rebellion, and how district thirteen are still going, no matter how slowly. Good luck on submitting, and I would be really grateful if you could get back to me about a cover image!**

 **Gaelic ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

Hi readers! Look, I'm sorry but I've been doing some thinking lately. At the moment, I'm new to fanfiction, and at the moment, I just don't have the drive or the support to make an SYOT. But that does NOT mean I am giving up fanfiction! I have a couple of other fanfic ideas in mind, one of which I have started writing. I know what you're thinking, 'Oh, here we go, yet another author that's abandoned their SYOT', and if you were enthusiastic about this story, you can hate me as much as you want. But I'm just not ready yet. I'm fully aware that only about 3% of SYOTs actually finish, and that's terrible, it puts authors off. I, for example, have thought of a few great characters to submit to someone's SYOT story, but haven't got round to making them, because I was just scared that the story wouldn't finish, and I just thought that I would be wasting hours of my life on characters that wouldn't have been used.

Anyway, I'm going to delete this story, but I'll be back in a couple of months with a new one, once I'm a more confident writer. Meanwhile, sorry again, Merry Christmas, and enjoy the stories that I have coming up!

Gaelic J


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